


Olfactophilia

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fawnlock, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Scent Kink, Tail Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olfactophilia (noun) - sexual attraction to, or sexual arousal by smells and odors emanating from the body, especially the sexual areas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olfactophilia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bennyslegs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyslegs/gifts), [flamiekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamiekitten/gifts).



> Thank you to Paula (Bennyslegs) for creating Fawnlock and helping to build a wonderful AU. 
> 
> Thank you to Leigh (FlamieKitten) for teasing me into writing this little PWP and helping me see that there is never enough tail kink in the world.
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing in years. Comments and suggestions very much appreciated!
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://lady-macphisto.tumblr.com/) if you like what you see! :)

John slowly ran his hands lightly down the fawn’s back, a whisper of a touch to sensitize the skin. Sherlock mewled and sighed in response as he braced himself on hands and knees in front of John. John watched as the fawn flicked his tail back and forth in nervous anticipation - he was a bit nervous too, and briefly wondered if this would be too much for the jumpy fawn.

He ran his hands down Sherlock's inner flanks and back up to the tail, pausing to tease the skin between the tail and the pink bud of exposed skin, just to see what he would do. Sherlock pushed back into the touch and growled low in his chest. The sound made John feel brave, and so he slowly started to swirl his finger around the tight pink bud. At first, Sherlock jumped, but then he collapsed his shoulders into the mattress and started softly cooing...

John groaned and palmed himself in response to the sudden change in Sherlock’s position. He liked seeing Sherlock in such a vulnerable, open pose and, if he were honest with himself, the shift in position only made it easier for what he had in mind. Conscious of taking this slow, so he wouldn’t ruin the moment, he leaned in closer and breathed in the heady smell of musk and sweat that radiated from the fawn.

Sherlock had always had a strong smell, even when just lounging around the cabin, but this was different. This was overwhelming, but in a way that made John swear he would never make the fawn bathe again. It was powerful and it was overly sexual in a way he had never experienced before. He gently braced the Fawn’s tail against the small of his back and leaned in to huff a moist breath against the soft, exposed skin he had just been rubbing with his thumb.

Sherlock immediately stopped cooing and slid his head around in the sheets to look over his shoulder.

“John?” He weakly questioned.

John didn’t move from where he was, positioned perfectly to breathe his response against his lover’s blushed skin, “Shh, love. Let me teach you something new.”

The fawn simply purred in response, trusting John completely, and relaxed back into the mattress.

John chuckled internally at the thought that he could reduce the stroppy fawn to such a writhing non-verbal mess. His thoughts were soon brought back to the present, however, by the slight, impatient thrusting of Sherlock’s arse into his nose and the whiff of musk that begged to be tasted.

_Soon_ , he internally chided himself. He had to make sure this was good for the fawn; John had no idea if Sherlock had ever experienced sex in this way. And he was sure as hell not going to stop in the middle of worshipping this lovely, slightly-furred arse in an effort to explain exactly why he wanted to feast on that enticing little pucker. He knew he needed to be careful with how he proceeded. Time for something familiar.

He took his right hand off of Sherlock’s tail and slid it between the fawn’s thighs to stroke his cock. Sherlock cried out and thrust into John’s hand. At the same time, John wet his thumb and began circling the puckered hole, which clenched and then relaxed into the new sensation. John leaned in and began rubbing his face against the fawn’s downy white cheeks, drinking in as much of the heady smell as he could while continuing to circle the fawn’s opening with his thumb. The small, fluffy tail flicked him in the face and John chuckled softly. He removed his hand from Sherlock’s cock and used it to stroke the twitching tail instead, keeping it out of the way. The fawn growled and arched his back.

“John.” He breathed, no longer questioning, but panted as an encouragement to continue.

John discovered that the fawn’s smell was strongest in the delicate junction between tail and arse. He took one last deep pull of the delicious musk and reached out to brush his tongue against that very spot. Sherlock moaned deeply in a way that sounded more feline than fawn and pushed back into John’s face.

“Eager, are we?” he teased.

The fawn’s only response was to spread his legs even further and mewl into the sheets.

The sight of Sherlock’s glistening hole was too much for John to resist. He briefly wished he had three hands: one to continue stroking the fawn’s tail, and two more to spread those lovely cheeks open. In the end, the tail had to fend for its self. John ran his tongue from the base of Sherlock’s tail to the center of his opening and - oh god. As good as the fawn _smelled_ , he tasted even _better_.

John began to eagerly lick and suck at the fawn’s skin, burying his face in the spread cleft of Sherlock’s arse, and revelling in the feeling of the fawn’s tail twitching and jumping against the top of his head. It made the entire situation feel that much filthier and John simply couldn’t get enough. He reached between his own legs to stroke his throbbing cock. They both needed to get off. Sherlock was shamelessly rutting against John’s face, and quickly losing the steady rhythm he had been keeping. He was panting and whimpering into the sheets, seeming slightly lost.

John came to his senses at the sounds of Sherlock’s distress and whispered, “Touch yourself, love. Do what feels good.”

Sherlock braced himself on one shoulder and started frantically stroking his cock. John, however, had one more trick up his sleeve: he stiffened his tongue and started fucking Sherlock’s loosened hole. When John’s tongue finally managed to breach the tight ring of muscle, Sherlock completely lost his rhythm, seemingly torn between thrusting into his own fist or John’s eager mouth.

“JOHN!” he cried out, and started to come all over the sheets below him.

John was so close; he took Sherlock’s hips in his hands and started to rub himself off between the fawn’s spit-slicked cheeks. The combination of the slick heat and the slight fur was enough to push John over the edge in just a few strokes, and he finally came with a satisfied grunt of pleasure.

When he eventually came back to his senses, Sherlock was still on his shoulders and knees before him. John could see the fawn shaking slightly and his muddled mind hoped it was from the orgasm, and not fear. He gentled his hands on Sherlock’s hips and moved to lie at his side, reaching out to softly stroke the fawn’s face to get his attention and whispering, “Hey, hey - relax. Let’s get you cleaned up and have a bit of a cuddle, yeah?”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned and flopped onto his back. John retrieved his rumpled pants from the side of the bed and cleaned both of them off as best he could. He stretched out on his back and waited for the fawn to make the first move, suddenly unsure of how to proceed.

After a few moments, Sherlock rolled onto his side and rested his head on John’s belly. This seemed to be the fawn’s favourite position, as it allowed John to easily run his hands through his hair and over his sensitive antlers, as he was doing now. The fawn seemed sleepy, and began absentmindedly playing with John’s now-softening cock.

“Hey, none of that - that’s what got us here in the first place.” He smiled, and felt the fawn smile against him. “Your insatiable bloody curiosity, and my inability to say no to you.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“My John.” The fawn sighed and gave in to the exhaustion, loosely draping his arm over John’s abdomen and quickly dropping off.

John smiled at the endearment, tugged the covers over their sated bodies and held Sherlock close to him for a little while longer. It wasn’t long before he followed the fawn into a deep and contented sleep.


End file.
